


Sole Responsibility

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Boot Worship, Established Relationship, F/M, Kinktober 2016, Non-Sexual Kink, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Canon, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-29 03:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: It's not that he likes being stepped on, ground into the dirt below her heels, or that he wants to get off by rubbing himself up against her boots. If that's what she wants to do he's willing to give it a shot- but what he wants is just to look and touch, to take care of the leather and repair the rubber in the soles, to see her standing tall in them and know they'll be ready to do what she needs, knowing he helped them get there.





	Sole Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> The last of the Kinktober '16 fics that I'll be reposting, originally posted [on tumblr](http://v8roadworrier.tumblr.com/post/152314515896/todays-kinktober-is-boot-worship-id-like-to)!

It's not that he likes being stepped on, ground into the dirt below her heels, or that he wants to get off by rubbing himself up against her boots. If that's what she wants to do he's willing to give it a shot- but what he wants is just to look and touch, to take care of the leather and repair the rubber in the soles, to see her standing tall in them and know they'll be ready to do what she needs, knowing he helped them get there.

He's always appreciated shoes. His dad's big special boots that Max never got a chance to wear himself, brown and so shiny he could almost see his face in them. His grandma's delicate heels she only wore on Sundays but wouldn't scold him for trying on during the week, at least not until his dad said he was old enough to know better. The white shoes Jessie wore on their wedding day and the pair she sometimes wore when it was just the two of them, the scraps of canvas he'd wear on sunny days off work.

There were a lot more types of shoes, back before.

Furiosa's boots don't match; very few do, nowadays. But the leather in both is strong, well-crafted if in need of some care.

She runs her boots as hard as she runs everything else, and if they're holding up well enough to keep up she doesn't pay attention to the finer details. Max doesn't particularly mind; he enjoys the ritual of it, the way he can take her tired dusty boots at the end of the day and make them shiny and supple again.

She's sitting at the workbench today so he sits on the floor underneath with his materials between his spread legs, listens to her work on her arm just above his head.

First, a brush to get the majority of the sand and dust off, careful to clean the seams. Then a cloth dipped into soap lather, made from the brownish soap the girls have been experimenting with. When that's been worked in he uses a wet cloth to wipe it away, dampened with some of his own water ration. He's used to drinking far less than they give him here and it's no hardship to give some up, especially for something like this.

When the soap's gone the leather is entirely clean, and sometimes he'll take a little black stain and smooth out the color, hide some of the nicks and scrapes that he can't actually fill in. He doesn't need to do that today and so Max takes a little rag dipped in oil and works it in, methodical. He hasn't found any formula he's completely happy with, but it's better than leaving them entirely unconditioned.

He lets the first boot soak in the oil and starts on the second, going through the entire process again.

"You don't keep your own in this condition," Furiosa says and he doesn't startle, just looks up at her from his spot on the floor. She's still bent over the worktable, only her lower body visible to him. Able to feel what he's doing to her boots without needing to look at him.

He hums a little. "They don't need it."

He keeps his boots healthy enough to take the abuse he deals out, but the shine of wearing beautiful shoes himself has long since worn off. Max waits to see if she has anything else to say, but she only flexes her foot at the ankle so the joint pops quietly before sitting still again.

When the oil's soaked in he takes a scrap of soft cloth and a little of the finishing grease he's made up and starts shining. For this he has to have her foot up in his lap, is as careful as he can be about turning it this way and that to get everything even. Once upon a time he'd had a brush that he used, the bristles of it hair that was stiff and luxurious, but the cloth is alright.

Her boots aren't supposed to shine up to a gloss so he doesn't try for it. Just rubs the leather careful, feels the shape of her feet through it. The leather's molded to her after so many days of wearing, the soles patched and replaced, but the boots are sturdy. Worthy of use.

He doesn't shine up the hardware, though he wants to. Shiny attracts attention and Furiosa likes knowing exactly what parts of her will attract attention.

To finish he coaxes each foot high enough up for him to kiss the toecap, the smudge from his lips the only mark on them.

Cleaning his supplies up is a task he doesn't like quite as much, but he acknowledges that it's important: dirty tools leave dirty leather, and sometimes can even cause damage. By the time Max has everything packed away she's done working, and he gets to watch Furiosa stand up from the worktable on her clean black boots and feel that satisfaction of a job well done, as well as just appreciation for the sight of a beautiful woman in a pair of beautiful boots.

 

In a few months he'll come in from a trip to the wastes and see her boots dusty and scraped up again, but before he can even suggest he clean them Furiosa will pull something out from her battered locker.

"I saw these and thought of you," she'll say, and Max will feel a tiny bit of apprehension until he registers what it is she's holding.

A pair of tall black leather boots with lacing all the way up and just enough heel for an elegant arch the entire way back down, in desperate need of a little care but definitely salvageable. Nothing practical enough to be worn out for a hard day's work but the sort of thing she might be persuaded to wear when it's just the two of them.

Max will run his fingers over the tired leather and then he'll lean across them to kiss her, and Furiosa will smile against his mouth.


End file.
